


15 Years

by concernedApathetic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Growing Up, Long Distance Relationship, M/M, house fire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-21 12:39:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concernedApathetic/pseuds/concernedApathetic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lyrics was the one way Dave knew he could properly express his emotions. Sending them to this boy every day for fifteen years was how he was and he hoped his point would eventually get across. But he was willing to wait forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Year 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t often show emotions to people, it’s a sort of weakness. Bro told me that all the time and I didn’t really understand why until I was thirteen years old. An event changed my life and shook my heart. At the time it took everything in me to keep from smiling bright and crying all at the same time.
> 
> I remember that day only vaguely. In fact I remember it only as three words on a computer screen and a hand on my shoulder. 
> 
> From that day on I decided I would express all my feelings through song. I wrote him new lyrics filled with my love every day for fifteen years from that day on.

There are 365 days in a year. There are 24 hours in each of those days. My first problem was trying to figure out how many of those hours of each of those days I should spend on writing these songs for him. I asked Bro to help me come up with a number and every day he would just shake his head and sigh.

“You can’t put a time limit on that shit. It’ll just come to you.” He responded.

“I know… but… Everyday forever is a long time. I need to pick a time every day to write for him.”

“I don’t know. Maybe that’s something you should figure out for yourself.”

So I tried to figure it out for myself.

I sat in school and wrote poems during classes. I ignored the teachers and spilled my lyrics out onto the page, tapping my foot along with the rhythm in my head. Teachers got mad at me and scolded me and the stuff I wrote just didn’t feel right. None the less, I sent them to him. These little blurbs still contained how I felt and I wasn’t going to let anything go to waste.

It came to me one day… I think I had already sent him about 98 songs or something, but I figured out when I could write and, even better, where I could write them.

One day Bro brought a guy home, just a friend and shit, but it freaked me out. I woke up in the morning that day and walked out into the kitchen/living room to see Bro and this black haired stranger sprawled out on the futon. My throat tightened because they looked so damn familiar. So I abandoned my initial mission and left the room. I made my way up to the roof.

I was greeted with the cawing of crows and a rather bright light. I didn’t like crows they were sort of really stupid and annoying but at the same time… the familiar sound of the crows cawing accompanied by the red sky of the sunrise inspiration hit me.

Running back downstairs I picked up my notebook and a red pen and ran back upstairs. I paused for only a second in my frantic scramble to the roof to check the time. ‘5:54AM’  Sunrise. It was perfect, maybe a little cliché, but it worked. The colours that lined the horizon really seemed to speak to me. They still do.

With my new found muse in the sunlight just on the horizon I wrote with more fervour and the words I wrote expressed the feelings I harboured so much more. I didn’t know a thing about writing poetry. Bro did… he told me that what I was writing was childish and that no one would ever appreciate it and that used to aggravate me so much.

I realize now that the things I wrote all those years ago were indeed very childish, but that was what I was. No matter how mature the feelings I had were, nothing was going to stop the fact that I was only thirteen years old.

The words were sporadic and had very little rhythm to them. I tried to rap them out to try and make it flow. I threw in more rhyming words to try and make them better. I used the thesaurus and looked up and used words that I didn’t even know.

I was just a kid. And thinking about it now, 15 years later, maybe I still am I kid. A kid with the inability to let go. I won’t ever let go, I know that… it’s what keeps me sane.

Every day I would lick a stamp on an envelope and send them back to his house in Washington. I knew in my heart that he got them. I mean… I also knew because I never got them sent back, and a few phone calls told me that my letters did indeed get all the way through to Washington. But I never got a response.

In the first year I never got a response from him. But that’s okay, I wasn’t really expecting one.

A couple of the days, after my fourteenth birthday in December, I recorded myself rapping these songs and sent them on CDs in envelopes. I still licked all the stamps and made sure that they were sent myself though.

“Why don’t you let me take care of it sometimes, lil’ man?” Bro had asked one day. I just smirked up at him and responded with a very curt, very blunt.

“What are you in love with him too?” It shut him up and he left me alone about it from then on.

The winter passed too soon. I had always liked the winter, and it reminded me of him. Made me want to see him in person again. The cold months where I complained about the cold to him and he would just laugh at me. Going on about how I wouldn’t be able to last a day up in Washington during the winter if I couldn’t even stand it down in Texas.

Smiling as I thought about conversations past I sat on the edge of the roof and stared off into the rising sun. Words spilled unceremoniously from my head down onto the sheet. Structure wasn’t needed when you were spilling your heart out. If I could set a rhythm to it by myself in my own head; if I could rap it and enjoy it as a musical piece it was just fine. If there was some sort of flow to it, it was good enough.

When winter finally closed completely and spring rolled around, so did the end of the first year and I slowly moved into my second year, transitioning as though no time at all had gone by. It didn’t feel as though I had written 365 poems in 365 days. It felt like I had written 3 words in 3 seconds.

3 words. The first year began and ended with 3 words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a story I started in my grade 12 year, over a year ago now. I recently found it, listened to the song it was based on, cried, and decided to start working on it again. This was the first chapter that I wrote that year with very little editing. My style has changed since then and you can expect some difference in the next few chapters. 
> 
> The song this is based off of is 15 Years of Pursuing a Cute Boy, a VOCALOID Miku song. The song itself contains major story spoilers.


	2. Year 2

By this time I had had a counter in my head. I could tell you exactly how many poems I had sent, and therefore I could tell you exactly how many days it had been since I first started writing them.  
  
Bro had started joining me up on the roofs some mornings. He would come up, help me set up a rhythm and tell me how I was doing. Every once and a while he would ask me how many days I have been writing these lyrics and I would give him an answer without hesitating, it was the most attention I gave him when he was up there with me.

“How do you keep track of it?” he asked on the 463rd day.

“It’s not something I can possibly forget.” Is how I answered. He left me alone for the rest of that day. When I got home from school that afternoon there was a pizza on the counter, on top of it was a pack of paper and new pens.

Writing these letters was time consuming and distracting. There was rarely a time I wouldn’t be thinking about them. It definitely showed. School was horrible; I dreaded it because it was just disappointment after disappointment. I didn’t learn well, so my grades weren’t good. I didn’t talk to my class mates much, so I didn’t have many actual friends. People thought I was weird, so even if I had tried to make friends back then I don’t think I would have been able to. It didn’t bother me though, not back then.

It wasn’t as though I was completely alone.

tentacleTherpist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

TT: Did you finish your writing today?  
TG: you know i wasnt being serious when i told you to remind me every day  
TT: I know. It is just difficult to believe you can actually manage to do it every day.  
TT: Also, you didn’t answer my question. Did you?  
TG: of course i did  
TG: what kind of asshole do you think i am?  
TG: actually dont answer that i dont care  
TT: Your wish is my command.  
TT: You know I would really like to read some of these letters. I’m very curious about what you write to John.  
TG: sucks to be you  
TG: this shit be confidential  
TT: Curse you! You have found my one weakness. Pure stupidity.  
TT: No matter, I have to go get school work done. Something you too should probably get done.  
TT: I’ll talk to you later.  
TG: seeya rose

tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

Rose was one thing that, even then, I knew would never change. The girl was stubborn and hard to move. It didn’t really mater though; as much as she ticked me off at times she was one of the few things I could always count on. She was also the reason I did make friends along the way. She and I treated one another like siblings, and that’s definitely how I thought of her. Rose was my sister.

Little did she know that she would one day get to read these letters it would just take one very traumatic incident to push me to agree to letting other people into the world I shared only with John.

It was the 102nd week since I had begun writing for him every day. I’ve already said that it was distracting me at school. But it wasn’t just distracting me there. In fact it probably distracted me even worse when I got home. At school I was looking for any way to not pay attention to the teacher blabbering at the front of the ignorant pricks who sat around me. At home I was genuinely distracted by writing, not just thoughts of writing. I would sit down at my desk, put on my headphones and play some beats. Then I would write.

At the time I didn’t think about how I was ignoring everyone and everything. My Bro and Rose in particular were put back to the recesses of my mind to make room for John. My surroundings no longer existed, my senses were dulled. I was completely and utterly in the zone while I wrote.

This incident happened on what seemed like such a random day to my fourteen your old mind. Why that day? Of course I still don’t know, even if I do know what happened. The smell of smoke didn’t bother me until it was everywhere and there was a constant, shrill beeping drilling into my skull. I took off my headphones to yell at Bro. As I was removing them I remembered Bro works late on Tuesdays.

Removing the headphones was like cutting a connection and very quickly reality came rushing back into perspective: the smell of smoke, the intense heat and an immediate, instinctual fear. Fire, there was fire everywhere. I got to my feet and grabbed the journal I had been working in. What should I do? I couldn’t keep a level head, for the first time in a long time I was genuinely terrified and everything Bro had ever tried to teach me about staying calm when shit goes down was escaping out my broken window with the billowing clouds of dark smoke.

In the same rush where everything became real I gathered enough sense to get out of there. Stay low, under the smoke, and try to get out of the apartment. Forget everything; just leave. Just run. I was probably very lucky that our apartment was so small and I had a clear shot from my room to the door.

On instinct I ran up. I knew in the forefront of my mind that I should be going down; I should’ve be trying to get out of the building. But I felt pulled towards the roof, so that was where I went. When things got to hot this was where Bro told me to go. He hadn’t meant it literally, I knew that, but it was instinct.

When I got out on the roof I closed the heavy door behind me and ran for a side of the building. I had to get a look of what was going on. Looking over the side of the building I did notice one thing. My apartment, my floor wasn’t the only one engulfed in flames. I fell back, my ass hitting the hard floor beneath me. I looked at the book I clutched tightly in my shaking hand. I stared at the crumpled pages and I laughed. I wouldn’t be able to tell you when I started to cry, all I could tell you was my sides ached from how much I was laughing.

Men in fire retardant suits and the whole shebang showed up at some point while I laughed and cried, and they carried me out of there. I could hear a word they were saying, and if I could I don’t think any of it was very intelligible. They were all wearing heavy masks.

The first voice I did hear that I could actually understand was deep and strangely frantic.

I was seated on the back of an ambulance, clutching my notebook and a bright blanket for shock or something. The paramedic had already looked me over and was currently looking at someone else who didn’t look nearly as alright as I did. My eyes were on them so I didn’t notice as another person approached.

“Jesus Christ.” The familiar voice spoke. The man wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to his chest. I just had to inhale once to know that this was Bro and that I was safe. I hugged him back as tight as I could. I was tired. Very, very tired. Knowing that Bro was worried about me made me even more tired. At least… that’s what it felt like.

I didn’t notice when he left to go talk to someone else. I didn’t notice when he picked me up and put me in his truck. I was walking the line between asleep and awake and I was leaning more and more towards the side of sleep at every moment.

In one of the last moments where I was coherent of the world around me I looked over at Bro who was driving down the interstate. “Bro?” My voice sounded very quiet even to me.

He glanced over at me, and that was enough for me to know he was asking for me to continue.

“We have to stop at the post office.” My hand tightened around the notebook in my hand, “I didn’t get to send John’s letter.” My hands, which by now had stopped shaking, flipped through the pages and tore one of them out. “I’ll have to apologize for not getting this one done properly.” I muttered.

Bro’s hand was in my hair, ruffling it before he took the piece of paper from me, “Of course little bro. We couldn’t forget about this.” His indicator was on and we took the next exit.  

I knew then that I couldn’t keep letting this distract me the way it was. Letting people in was important. I knew that Bro wanted to be a part of this world with me and now I knew I would feel safer if he was a more major part of my life. Him and Rose. I knew I needed them. If Rose wanted to read them she could read them. I wouldn’t ignore her anymore. I had to realize quickly that these friends and family were just important in my life as John would ever be. I was sure he would understand my reasoning. He was way more level headed that I was. It would only make sense. And I’m sure I wasn’t the only thing on his mind.

As I passed off the letter to the woman behind the counter at the post office I smiled and yawned before turning to Bro. “Can we get Pizza Hut? I’m hungry.” Bro clapped me on the shoulder as he chuckled and escorted me out of the building and back to the car.

Needless to say it was probably the most refreshing pizza anybody had ever had in all history. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing as though the story is being told by person who already knows exactly what is happening. I'm liking the way it sounds, but I may go back and fix things up as I see them. Reviews are always welcome and make me want to write more so feel free to drop your thoughts!


	3. Year 3

After the fire everything was different. The rest of the year was blurred, I just remember going to our temporary home at a local hotel in Houston. The insurance company paid for it but we knew we wouldn’t be able to stay there for long. Bro worked a lot harder and I could tell he was getting stressed. I wanted to help but I was only turning fifteen years old and was still in school.

tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

TT: Have you gotten your writing done today?  
TG: yeah  
TT: So full of enthusiasm!  
TT: What’s wrong with you?  
TG: bro didnt come home last night  
TT: He has work doesn’t he?  
TG: he never leaves for that long without leaving me a note or some shit  
TT: I’m sure it was just some unexpected occurance and he didn’t have the time to get in touch with you. Are you worried about him? Why don’t you call him?  
TG: im not worried about him  
TG: i mean  
TG: well i am worried about him but not like  
TG: not for this?  
TG: im worried about the fact that hes always fucking working   
TG: like all the fucking time  
TG: shits not healthy  
TT: And what do you think you can do about that, Dave?  
TT: You are in high school, you have a full time commitment with school and school work.   
TT: Or at least, you should have a full time commitment with school and school work.   
TG: ive gotta be able to do something to get some cash  
TT: I still think you’d be able to make money off of your songs for John.  
TG: no fucking way man  
TG: this shit is for me and john  
TG: and you because youre my official editor  
TT: Yes, I am.   
TT: And as your editor I would like to suggest you start putting your work online for a larger audience so as to attain a source of income for your family.   
TT: Your house is severely damaged you need all the money you can get, I’m not going to argue with you on that one.   
TG: alright well how the fuck would i make money from this shit  
TT: You could post your lyrics on a blog or website of whatever sort. And sell tracks of them performed.   
TG: how the fuck would that take off  
TT: I do have connections Dave, you just have to worry about content. I will worry about advertising.   
TG: alright if you say so

I was sure Rose was being over confident in both my abilities and her own. I didn’t expect this to go anywhere at all. None the less I started a blog and posted a couple of the older things I had written for John. Pulling a stack of old notebooks out of my desk I flipped through them for some to type up. It would be my first time typing one of these. I was used to copying them by hand onto a cleaner piece of paper but typing had always just seemed way too informal.

I had never wanted to share these letters with anyone aside from John. But if Rose was so sure that I would be able to sell my music than I had to trust her. She had never lead me astray before. She was by far the most intelligent person I knew.

The blog I started was very different from the way it turned out being. I posted a couple lyrics. I made it look as cool as I could. I gave a small explanation of who these songs were for and what they were about. But that was it. Rose said she would take care of the rest and that I should just go on and start recording some of the songs. She said it would be good for me to try and get to spend some time with Bro. Spending time with Bro sounded great so I was very quick to agree with her.

I was not expecting Rose to get this to take off. I was genuinely surprised the next time I went online.

* * *

TG: what the hell did you do?  
TT: I got your page a few visitors.  
TG: yeah but i mean  
TG: HOW did you do?  
TT: I told you the other day that I have connections.  
TT: How many people exactly are following that blog of yours today?  
TG: its at 200  
TT: Hmm, I thought it would be more than that.

Rose was insane. I had no idea how she did it at the time. I had no idea who she had these connections with. I sure as hell knew nothing about anyone that popular on the internet.

I immediately felt as though everything I had recorded the night before was not good enough for these people. Nothing I wrote was good enough for these people. And I was definitely sure that they would tell me as much. Was this what it was like to be popular on the internet? Is this what they had to think and worry about all the time? I only had 200 people reading my stuff at the time but it was nerve wrecking and I didn’t want to get any more popular.

That was until I looked at the new donation page someone had put up on my blog. It wasn’t a lot but there was nearly $100 connected straight to a brand spanking new paypal account. Apparently whoever had been on my blog to fix things up had been told a little bit about John. He, or she, had made it sound like some sort of long distance love story and that I’m trying to go see him. I mean, I wouldn’t have complained about getting to go see him… but that was not what this was. At least that was never how I thought of it.

TG: who the hell was changing everything?  
TT: A friend of a friend… of a friend.  
TG: that is the farthest possible thing from helpful  
TT: His handle is twinArmageddons   
TT: If you would like to contact him.   
TT: He’s a friend of Kanaya’s friend Karkat.   
TT: She recommended him to me for this endeavour.   
TG: ill add him later and set shit straight  
TT: Are you complaining about your profit?   
TG: its for john   
TG: it should be for my house which just burnt to the fucking ground  
TT: Point taken. I wasn’t going to comment on that since both are good causes. But if you are offended you should definitely talk to him. I believe his name is Sollux.   
TG: stupid name

In hindsight I’m not sure why I was so angry right then. Maybe it was because he totally killed every expectation I had on this shit. I had expected it to go absolutely nowhere. But here it was steadily gaining popularity and I was just left here completely gobsmacked. Strider’s don’t get ‘gobsmacked’. That was stupid. That was something that happened to Egberts.

Needless to say I was ready to fuck bitches up when it came time to actually add this guy.

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering twinArmageddons [TA]

TG: the fucks your problem

twinArmageddons [TA] has blocked turntechGodhead [TG]

My first attempt at communication did not quite go according to plan. It was nearly an hour before I heard back from this guy.

twinArmageddons [TA] has unblocked turntechGodhead [TG]

TA: iiv’e been iinformed that you’re the guy who2e blog ii’m runiing  
TA: 2orry for blockiing you  
TA: ii wa2n’t iin the mood two talking two iin2ufferable priick2  
TA: ii already get enough of that daiily  
TG: again  
TG: the fucks your problem  
TA: excu2e me?  
TA: ii’m making you a fuckiing 2tar and you talk two me like that?  
TA: what a load of 2hiit. ii 2hould have never agreed two thii2.   
TG: why the hell are you saying the money is for me to visit john  
TA: what do you want me two 2ay iit2 for your hou2e  
TG: id feel less like a pile of shit if you did  
TA: none of what ii 2aiid ii2 untrue  
TA: ii ju2t went wiith the 2tory that would get better re2ult2 a22hole  
TA: iinternet dweller2 eat that love 2tory 2hiit up  
TG: true but you dont know a damn thing about me and john  
TA: actually TT wa2 quiite clear iin her explanation  
TA: lucky for you ii’m an iinternet dweller or ii would have never agreed two help you wiith your 2tupiid blog  
TG: TT? you mean rose? she told you everything?  
TA: that2 what ii 2aiid ii2nt iit?   
TA: iive been through the 2ame thing you iignorant 2hiit head  
TA: ju2t let me fuckiing help you and 2hut your trap.  
TA: ju2t keep writing and po2tiing your 2hiitty poem2.  
TA: 2eeya

twinArmageddons [TA] has blocked turntechGodhead [TG]

For a long time those was the only exchange we ever had. He never told me what he meant by having gone through something similar. He never told me what he was going to do to update my website. He was just some sort of phantom admin who ruled with an iron fist.

I stopped arguing after this conversation though. He was right. He knew what he was doing. And, hey, if this took the pressure off of Bro I guess I couldn’t really complain about it. I was just left with the thought that, ‘hey maybe we don’t have to stay in a disgusting hotel for the rest of our days. Maybe we can actually get back into a home with stuff that doesn’t smell like sex and cheap fabric softener.’

* * *

Two and a half month later I watched as things started to change. I hadn’t been expecting much more from that website. And I didn’t get that much more, well I liked to think that. I guess having a couple thousand people reading your work and wanting more and more from you actually is quite a big change. But I mean more in the line of Bro and I were just now being told that we would be able to move back into our apartment soon.

Bro didn’t ever stop working a lot no matter how many times I told him I was making money for us he would be gone when I woke up and not back before I went to sleep. The small amounts of time he did stay here he did spend with me. He helped me lay out tracks and record stuff as best as we could on the very minimal set up we had to work with.

He seemed happy to get to spend time with me though and I couldn’t argue with the fact that it was great to be around him whenever I could.

“Have you thought about looking into proper writing shit, lil bro?” He asked as he flipped through a more recent notebook of mine. He had wanted to pick out the next song we recorded and I very hesitantly agreed to let him go through my work at his own will.  

“You mean like literary studies or some shit? Rose has been bothering me about that too.”

“Smart girl, that one.”

“Do you think it’s worth looking into?”

“Definitely. It’s at least worth a shot, isn’t it?”

“I guess so.” My reply had been far from enthusiastic. I was starting to feel as though this wasn’t the same thing I had started doing. It almost seemed to dirty. But at the same time I wanted to make John as happy as I possibly could so improving my writing wouldn’t be a bad thing.

I decided to take Bro’s and Rose’s advice. I paid more attention to class. I took out books from the library. I talked to a teacher or two. Everyone just seemed too baffled to believe what they were seeing. I didn’t blame them at all, I was pretty baffled by this whole thing myself as well. I didn’t comment on it. I silently studied things and learned a lot that I had had no idea about prior to this.

I had had no idea what the hell prose was. I thought it was another fancy form of writing. Rose had told me at some point she wrote prose. I had just sort of ignored it, like a lot of things she says. I found out that my writing was more prose than poetry. It made me a little embarrassed and more than a little happy for actually looking into this stuff.

I learned that meter was a thing that existed. I hadn’t even heard the word used as anything except for like… a gauge or a Canuck yard. I wouldn’t have ever guessed it was also a way to make poetry flow properly. Like a lot of what Shakespeare wrote was in Iambic Pentameter? Jesus dicks the guy must have ended up talking like that to write so much of it. At the time I couldn’t even fathom sticking to such a specific way of writing.

Rhyme schemes. Forms of poetry. The different types of ways words can rhyme. All this was so new to me and it was a little bit too much to take in all at once. But I tried my best. From that day I tried to experiment with the different types of writing. It was slowly beginning to no look or sound like the rap songs I used to write. I didn’t know how I felt about that. It was different and I wasn’t really changes biggest fan.

I stuck with it though. For years I developed my craft. I could look back at what I had done in the first year and already start to see how childish they were. I had just started high school. I was still a kid, but I was beginning to realize that I was slowly but surely growing up. And I had John to thank for that.

* * *

In the next few months my life changed a lot. Bro and I moved back into our apartment. We got back a lot of the stuff that we didn’t think we would. Something Bro was very obviously pleased with. From what we had been told it had sounded like a lot of our electronics were destroyed, or at least beyond the point of repair. That didn’t end up being the case.

More importantly then that. The writing I was giving to Rose to look over was coming back to me with less and less changes and edits. She seemed a lot happier. She went on about even she was having to look stuff up at the point just to make sure that what I was doing was done correctly. She was a prose writer herself so the nuances of writing poetry were new to her; where she understood the theory she hadn’t had thing like the layouts for something like a villanelle or a pantoum. She seemed more than happy to be learning this right along with me and getting me to share what I had learned with her.

The only other big change was the website where I posting all of this writing. Or at least… a lot of it was going up. Some of it I was still not comfortable sharing with the entire internet. That Sollux guy hadn’t contacted me again; he never bothered to even unblock me. But it was clear just from visiting the blog that he was still helping out a lot. The blog looked professional. It no longer looked just like some site that any old person could have. It was my own.

The number of people following the site was the most astounding thing about it though. On the second day it had had 200 followers. By the 3rd month there were just over 1 500. By the 6th month there were just over 5 000 people following my site. Then, headed into the 10th month I was close to breaking 15 000 followers. It was a number I was never expecting.

Rose was sure that this number would continue to grow. I stopped brushing her off when she said that sort of thing. I was starting to see that she was right. I didn’t get much negative feedback, though I am pretty sure that at the time all of the feedback I got was filtered through Sollux first.

Also money. I didn’t feel very good about taking money from people, I almost felt dirty. I wanted Sollux to take it down now that I was back in my house. I didn’t need it anymore. I wasn’t planning on using it to go see John. The only change he made (with communication through Rose) was he added ‘Goal reached. Thanks for helping me reach my goal.’ It didn’t stop people though. It was crazy to me that people would continue to give me money. I couldn’t personally talk to Sollux about it though, so I left it and just tried to forget that it existed.

There were things though that didn’t ever change. Every day I made my trip down the street to the post office where I would like a stamp and send a letter with something written on a clean piece of paper. I would thank the person behind the counter with the smallest smile and then I’d walk out of the building and back down the street with a little bounce in my step.

At the end of the third year I physically looked like a different person, I had grown up. I was more matured mentally as well. But I was still the same Dave that I knew John loved. This kept me happy. I could change every day for the rest of my life but I could never be something John would hate. I would get taller, broader, stronger, smarter, tanner; just older. But he was the one thing in my life that would never change. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed this longer chapter. It was a little more broken up but this is more how I expect I will write the rest of this story.


End file.
